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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377414">Wish Upon A Star</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAbyss/pseuds/DarkAbyss'>DarkAbyss</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Constantine: The Hellblazer (Comics), DCU (Comics), Hellblazer, Hellblazer &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, I just wanted an excuse for John to tell a tale, M/M, Mentions of Murder, Pre-Series, Very Mild Mention of sexual content, mentions of assault, young john - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:08:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,315</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26377414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAbyss/pseuds/DarkAbyss</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On a lonely New York night, sitting on a roof and drinking apple juice, a young John remembers one of the people he has bumped into during his still young life and who has faded far too soon.<br/>(Mild warning for brief mentions of assault and death.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>John Constantine &amp; Nick Necro, John Constantine/Nick Necro</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Wish Upon A Star</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, looks like I produced yet another short story, instead of focusing on what I was truly supposed to do!</p><p>I’m dedicating this one to my wonderful RP partner (adventurepunks on Tumblr) because I stole our verse as a setting and I borrowed one of their characters to allow me to tell this little tale. And, of course, because they inspired it in the first place.</p><p>I was in the mood for something melancholic, but I didn’t wanted to dive into full angst for once, so this is the result. Though, while reading the softest parts, keep in mind how badly it ended for John, Nick and Zatanna...Just saying.</p><p>I feel that at times people tend to skim over how much John can get attached to people, and how much he cherished the connections he has made and then lost (whether it was his fault of not), so I wanted to write something about that.</p><p>Comments and feedback are always welcome!</p><p>Enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The roof. Of course he was there. Hiding away in elevated places like the damn half stray, half feral cat he was.</p><p>John had vanished in his room straight after dinner, which wouldn’t have struck neither Nick nor Zatanna as odd if it hadn’t been for the fact that the younger man had turned down a glass of the scotch the necromancer had broken out. Constantine wasn’t always a people person, despite what one who didn’t know him enough could have assumed, but there was no way on Earth nor in Heaven or Hell that he would have answered with a hard pass when it came to alcohol. Not unless something was wrong. And, admittedly, the kid had been quieter than his usual that day.</p><p>They had given him one hour before Zatanna had headed up to check on him, only to find his bedroom empty. Apparently John had managed to sneak out on them...Or maybe he had climbed out of the window. By now, Nick knew his pupil well enough to be aware that he couldn’t have put such a reckless move past him.</p><p>A quick tracking spell had done the trick, because Constantine really had no idea of what a mobile phone was. And, even if he had, it would have been no guarantee that he would have carried it with him and used it properly anyway.</p><p>John barely shot a glance over his shoulder when he heard the staircase door opening, the tension that had grown in his muscles relaxing almost instantly when he realised that it was his mentor. He offered a brief nod from where he was seated on the edge of the roof, before turning to stare ahead of him once again, swinging his legs just slightly. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for interruptions or company, but, since it was Nick, deep down he didn’t mind that much. Not that he would have ever admitted it out aloud.</p><p>“There you are,” the necromancer addressed him. His eyes followed the bottle that the younger man brought to his lips to take a swing. He firstly assumed that it had to be beer, but to a closer inspection it oddly proved to be apple juice instead. Yet another evidence that something was amiss. “Trying to bail on us, kid?”</p><p>Constantine shrugged, turning the bottle in his hands distractedly. “Nay, Cap. ‘S not like tha’. ‘M jus’...Ah, today’s th’...<em>anniversary</em> o’ someone I used to know. ‘S...a bit o’ a tradition o’ mine.”</p><p>“One of your ‘mates’ back in London?” Nick promoted, leaning against the cement railing next to the spot the younger magician was occupying. His voice was calm, almost completely devoid of demand. He would have let his pupil decide whether or not to tell him about it for that once, even if he had to admit that he was curious. The youth had the tendency of proving himself full of surprises, especially when it came to things that one wouldn’t have associated with the sort of person Constantine came off as.</p><p>John didn’t reply right away. Instead, he lowered his gaze on the bottle, a contemplative frown touching his face. It would have been hard to tell if he was pondering on whether or not to reply to his mentor’s question or if he was simply lingering on a memory.</p><p>Eventually, he shook his head. “Not one o’ me mates. She...Ah, she was dis lass who came to our concerts. Ne’er missed one, yeh know? Ne’er got ‘er to tell if she did ‘cause she liked th’ music or ‘cause she ‘ated it.” He shrugged, but his lips curled in the hint of melancholic grin. “She alway stayed after we were done playin’ too. Sometimes bought us a round, others demanded tha’ <em>we</em> paid for ‘er shite. She was a bit like Zee. Strong-willed n’ stubborn n’ smart...‘Ard to tell ‘er no.”</p><p>He took another slow sip from the bottle, exploiting the chance to pause and drown the sadness that had touched his voice.</p><p>“Before yeh ask, she wasn’t me bird. Ne’er lemme kiss or touch ‘er. Made it clear since th’ start tha’ she wasn’t interested in tha’ wit’ me. I mean...Fair enough,” he went on with a small huff. It wasn’t a complaint. He had truly been more than fine with him. She had been good-looking, she had been charming, but if there was something he would have never done it was trying to force himself on someone in that way. It could have never after what he himself had gone through.</p><p>He drummed his fingers on the glass. “Tho, there was dis one nite...She groped me till I got ‘ard n’ den she put me in front o’ a bloody <em>mirror</em> n’ told me to...yeh know. Take care o’ meself. N’ she jus’ sat there n’ watched. Not like for ‘er own enjoyment or shite. I dunno woh she was tryin’ to prove there, but…<em>blimey</em>. Tha’ was one ‘ell o’ a orgasm. Kinda forgot she was there too at one point. Weird, but...fuckin’ <em>good</em> kind of weird.”</p><p>“Why am I <em>not</em> surprised to hear that this tale of yours contains yet again another odd sexual element?” Nick mused with an amused huff. There were other comments he would have liked to make, and a few questions on the tip of his tongue too, but he would have let them rest for now. “Seems to be a <em>constant</em> with you, kid.”</p><p>“Oi! Tha’s rich comin’ from yeh, <em>Mista Crop n’ Shadow Ropes</em>,” John retorted, elbowing the older man slightly, even if there was no real heat in the eyeroll he addressed him. “N’ aye, I kinda asked for th’ dirty, kinky parts, but...tha’s not th’ point ‘ere. So, shuddup n’ lemme tell me tale.”</p><p>The younger magician pursed his mouth at the light smirk that curled his mentor’s lips, because that expression was enough to tell him that he had just dug his own grave, without Nick needing to add a single word on the matter. He still chose not to acknowledge any of it, and turned back to look at the horizon instead.</p><p>“I still tried to flirt ‘cause she <em>loved</em> turnin’ me down. We ‘ad fun n’ all. Went on walks along th’ Thames after th’ concerts. I was usually ‘igh or wasted, but she was fully sober. She ne’er drank, ne’er smoke. Just ordered fuckin’ apple juice n’ sipped it while me n’ th’ lads made fools o’ ourselves.” He waved the bottle. “Reason why I dun drink on dis nite. N’ I dun smoke from sunset to dawn...Even if ‘ell, ‘m already <em>dyin’</em> for a fag.”</p><p>As to underline his words, his hand moved to the cigarette he had hooked above his ear, fingering it for a moment.</p><p>“I dun even know ‘er real name. She called ‘erself ‘Ope. N’...she was. Full o’ dreams, full o’ kindness. Bright soul. She was studyin’ to become some sort o’ social worker. Wanted to ‘elp kids in bad situations n’ all. I gots no doubts tha’ she woulda been wonderful at it. She definitely made us all merrier jus’ whene’er she was ‘round.”</p><p>John went quiet once again, his gaze lowering as his expression darkened visibly. His features filled with tension all of a sudden. Bitterness, rage, regret, pain.</p><p>“Knew ‘er for like eight mont’s. Den, one nite, she got mugged on th’ way back to ‘er flat. Th’ bastards...They struck ‘er in th’ back o’ th’ ‘ead, <em>‘ard</em>. One o’ me mates ‘eard ‘bout it in th’ streets a few days later. She stayed in a coma for a while before she died. I...I used to visit ‘er, leave bottle o’ ‘er fuckin’ juice on ‘er nitestand. Th’ nurses took ‘em after I left e’ery time, but I kept bringin’ ‘em. Jus’...Jus’ in case, yeh know. Tho...She ne’er woke up.”</p><p>There was a knot in his stomach and the ache that came from it had to be openly visible on his face because he caught the sight of Nick’s forehead creasing with the corner of his eyes. The necromancer remained quiet, though, probably grasping that it was the most sensible thing to do and the younger magician felt immensely grateful for that rare show of thoughtful tact.</p><p>“Chas n’ I went after th’ motherfuckers. I pulled a few tricks outta me sleeve, got ‘em caught red-handed while they were ‘arrassin’ a copper’s missus. They’re still in jail. ‘M gonna make sure they <strong><em>rot</em></strong> in there.”</p><p>He licked his lips lightly, gripping hard at the bottle before finishing its contents with one last, long sip. “Tha’ was four years ago. N’ I started dis...ritual. On th’ date o’ th’ nite we met ‘er for th’ first time.”</p><p>Silence fell between them for a couple of minutes and John exploited the stall to bend down and retrieve another bottle of juice. As soon as he had straightened, Nick’s hand landed on his shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze.</p><p>“It’s commendable of you to wish to remember her. Especially considering that this young woman seems to have left quite the mark in your life. I never met her, so I don’t wish to make any assumptions, but from what you told me of her...I think she would appreciate it,” the necromancer stated in a solemn tone, turning to look at the forest of buildings that raised before them and at their feet. “And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for your loss, John.”</p><p>The young magician nodded slightly. “Aye, I like to think tha’ too. N’ <em>ta</em>, Nick. ‘S…’S wort’ a lot, comin’ from yeh.”</p><p>A heavy sigh slipped his lips and he allowed himself to rest his head on his mentor’s shoulder, eyes moving up towards the night sky. That sort of affectionate gestures were still uncommon and new between them, but he felt justified to indulge, at least for that night.</p><p>“Wish upon a star…” He whispered under his breath.</p><p>The older man raised his eyebrows slightly, following the direction of Constantine’s gaze towards the dark heavens that stretched above their heads. The light pollution made it impossible to see almost anything that wasn’t a sea of blackness. Even the moon was dulled by the constant brightness of the artificial lights that kept the city bright and shining at every hour.</p><p>“Hard to do it, if you can’t even see the stars.”</p><p>“Rite? Bloody ‘ell, London ain’t any be’er. N’ if ‘s not th’ fuckin’ street lamps, ‘s th’ bloody fog! Yeh can’t see <em>shite</em>. N’ tha’ woh I always told ‘Ope. N’ yeh know woh she replied to me e’ery soddin’ time?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“She went like ‘yeh dun need to see th’ bloody stars to know they’re <em>there</em>, Constantine. So shut yeh stupid mout’, close yeh eyes, picture th’ ‘eavens rainin’ lights down on us n’ make a fuckin’ wish, yeh twat’. As I said, ‘ard to tell ‘er no. So aye, I wished upon a bloody star tha’ wasn’t even there.”</p><p>There was a sly grin widening on Nick’s lips. “One more proof that this Hope girl was smart. Isn’t that how magic works, John? Before you even start learning it, you must be ready to see what you can’t see and <em>believe</em>.” His blue eyes touched his pupil’s face for a moment, before moving back up to the sky. “So, for this night, I shall ‘wish upon a bloody star’ with you and drink apple juice, if you’ll allow me.”</p><p>John snorted, feeling slightly mocked, but he still didn’t hesitate to offer the older man the freshly open bottle. All considered, for the man’s, his mentor was being nice to him. He had no rights to complain.</p><p>“Make yehself at ‘ome, Cap. I...I dun mind a bit o’ company. Keeps me from givin’ into temptation n’ smokin’. Told yeh ‘m dyin’ ‘ere,” he replied, in a dismissive tone, but he was hiding the hint of a smile. “Let us see if yeh gots th’ patience to deal wit’ a nicotine-deprived me all nite.”</p><p>“I dealt with you under much worse circumstances, kid. I think I can pass this test too,” the necromancer pointed out with the hint of an eyeroll. Then his voice softened slightly as he tilted his head. “I won’t ask because I know the rules, but satisfy one curiosity of mine...Did it work? The wish you made with her?”</p><p>The question seemed to catch Constantine off guard, and the contemplative look resurfaced for a brief moment. The smell of the waters of the Thames had been strong that night night and the humid fog had been chilling the bare skin of his chest, covering it in goosebumps and sipping past the flesh, down to his bones. He remembered that moment as if it had happened mere days before, even if a few years had passed already.</p><p><em>Make a fuckin’ wish</em>, Hope had said.</p><p>And John, despite his skepticism, had. Not with words, but with ideas. <em>Warmth, stability, a purpose</em>. And look at where he had ended up, four odd years later. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t bliss, but it was still more than what he had truly hoped for.</p><p>When he turned to look back at his mentor once again, his blue eyes were sparkling, knowingly. “Aye, it did. It really did.”</p><p>And if he leant a little closer, and if he let himself relax a bit more than he usually did when Nick’s arm slid around his shoulders, no one aside from them would have ever had to know.</p><p>After all, that little corner he had dug for himself in the world was theirs and theirs alone. And it would have been till the day, had it come, when everything would have gone up in flames.</p>
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